Mummy has two gardens

I always thought this was Mummy’s garden, but she’s got another one. She disappears to go there on Saturday mornings and sometimes other times too. This week she took all the nice little kale plants that were growing in pots with her. There was something else in pots too, broccoli, I think she said. We’ve got kale growing in our garden, I was in a run next to it on Friday and Saturday. I wonder why she’s got more in another garden.

I think that’s why we got some very long grass on Saturday lunchtimes up till recently. She says it’s too dry now. Well, it has been dry, except when it rains. And thunders. And lightnings. I don’t like it when it does that. Mummy’s bringing home things for herself now, instead of things for us. Round yellow things called potatoes. That’s not fair.

She says she’s growing things for us in our garden, and things for her in the other one. Well, she eats our stuff as well, so it still isn’t fair. We get bean leaves at the moment. She picked the first beans of the season yesterday. They were yummy, but she kept most of them for herself. I told you it isn’t fair.

You know, Atticus and Roland don’t have a garden. Don’t feel too bad for them, though: they are completely spoiled in other ways. We buy them the best organic veg we can find. I hope someday to have a garden.

I think Mummy deserves to eat some of food she grows, don’t you? It’s not like she deprives you boys of anything. I used to call Hugo “Hard-Done-by Hugo.” I think you have inherited the title. Or how about “Despondent Dyl”?